


The Roar on the Other Side of Silence

by scintilla10



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Boarding School, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-02-02
Updated: 2011-02-02
Packaged: 2017-10-21 15:33:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,754
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/226756
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scintilla10/pseuds/scintilla10
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for the prompt: <i>Jared and Jensen are roommates in a high school boarding school (no younger than 15). They have to be quiet when they have sex so their other roommates don't wake up. Blow jobs, hand jobs, or frottage only, please.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	The Roar on the Other Side of Silence

**Author's Note:**

> Written for a prompt at [Blindfold Supernatural](http://community.livejournal.com/blindfold_spn) and originally posted [here](http://community.livejournal.com/blindfold_spn/3417.html?thread=4918105#t4918105). Pretentious title from George Eliot. Though it is not explicitly stated in the fic, I wrote these characters as 17 years old.

  
In the middle of the night, Jensen can hear the sound of the other boys breathing in their sleep. It's comforting in a way; he's known almost all of them since they started at St. Bart's in kindergarten, and most of them have slept in the same dorm since they became full-time boarders in grade 7. This is Jensen's last year, and he wonders sometimes if at night he's going to miss the heavy warm comfort of the room and the familiar rhythms of inhales and exhales. Maybe he'll always have trouble sleeping without it, like when he goes home for Christmas break and feels uncomfortable in the dead quiet of his own room.

There are other things Jensen is going to miss, of course.

He can feel Jared roll out of bed across the dorm room. He's perfectly silent (lots of practice) but Jensen's expecting it, waiting for it. He can make out the movement of the shadows against the window and feel the shift in the still dark air.

Moments later Jared's hand touches his, just a whisper of fingertips against his palm.

Jensen turns his head and shifts backwards against the wall, lifting the covers enough so Jared can squeeze in next to him. There's a _whoosh_ of cool air and then Jared's tucked in next to him, close and warm. So warm and so, so close.

There's barely enough room for both of them on the bed. They used to fit onto it easily: spreading out to read comics together on the weekend or leaning close to copy each other's math homework or sharing earbuds to watch youtube videos on Jared's phone. But they've both been steadily growing into their gangly limbs, and by the time they started -- well, by the time _this_ started, they didn't fit so easily onto a single mattress anymore.

It doesn't matter, though. Jensen likes being in close quarters with Jared. Just the heat of his body makes Jensen's heart thrum in his chest, anticipation and need and want suddenly careening through him and making him breathless. He can just make out Jared's features in the darkness: the smooth planes of his cheeks, the bright glint of his eyes, the dark parentheses of his dimples. He's smiling at Jensen, and Jensen smiles back. He knows Jared will see, even if he can't make out Jensen's face.

Jensen feels the weighty stillness of the room change as they reach out to touch one another. They know how to move silently under the covers -- years of sneaking out after lights-out have paid off in more ways than one. Jared cups his hand around Jensen's cheek and smoothes his thumb over Jensen's cheekbone. In response, Jensen curls his hand around the back of Jared's neck, threads his fingers in his silky hair, and tugs him closer. Jared's breathing quickens, gets faster and more erratic, and Jensen knows he's struggling to keep quiet. Jared's rarely quiet and it's one of the things Jensen loves about him, but he loves this, too, when Jared is forced to limit his reactions to silent movement. Jensen can feel every fluttering change in Jared's breath and every suppressed gasp in his chest.

The touch of Jared's fingers gently brushing down his arm knocks the air out of Jensen's own lungs and makes his cock harden in his boxers. Well, that's a lie -- his cock's been hard for ages. He's been lying in the dark for hours, pretending to sleep and waiting for Jared. What else was he supposed to be thinking about? But Jared's touch makes him abruptly and achingly hard, and he tightens his grip in Jared's hair and rocks helplessly forward into Jared's thigh.

They press against one another. Jared's mouth finds Jensen's, and he kisses soft and needy and perfect, his tongue sliding hot and wet into Jensen's mouth. Jensen scrabbles his fingers into Jared's shoulders and kisses back, pulling Jared tighter against him and letting him feel the line of Jensen's dick. Jared strokes Jensen's arm, his shoulders, his chest, and Jensen shivers with it over and over. He slithers his fingertips just under the collar of Jared's cotton T-shirt, searching for smooth, heated skin.

Every time Jared kisses him, the swooping feeling in his stomach makes him feel hot and shaky and stupid. Jared opens him up with his hands and lips and eyes, like Jensen is the only thing he's ever wanted. It makes Jensen feel achy, lucky, terrified, like he's untethered and grounded, splintered and whole, all at once. It never fails to strike straight through to the deepest part of Jensen's chest, as though Jared's planting a flag there and claiming everything.

This kiss is different from their first fumbled kiss in the rain behind the bleachers, surprise and joy and uncertainty coloring the whole world. It's different from the first time they made out with their hands on each other's dicks, hesitant at first before their teeth and tongues and hips were clashing desperately against one another. It's different from the kiss Jensen pecks on Jared's lips outside Ms Stainsby's third-period History class, ignoring the whistles and catcalls because the way Jared's face glows with happiness is like the morning sun. It's never quite the same, even though his stomach does nosedives every time and everything always feels shiny and scary and overpowering. But it's _them_ and for Jensen, it's as right and familiar as breathing.

He smoothes his hand down Jared's chest, wishing Jared wasn't wearing a T-shirt so he could feel all the muscles jump and flex under his fingertips. He rubs his finger over Jared's nipple and grins at the way Jared curls towards the touch. He wishes they could be naked together, feel skin against skin, lick every inch of each other's bodies. But that's something for the future, for when sex doesn't need to be stolen, furtive, and quick in the darkness of their dorm room surrounded by their sleeping classmates.

When Jensen reaches the elastic of Jared's boxers, Jared arches his body closer and opens his mouth soundlessly. Jensen slides even closer, pressing his mouth to Jared's and breathing "Shhh." He slips his hand under the waistband and curls his fingers around the hot length of Jared's dick. Jared makes a choked cut-off sound against Jensen's mouth and Jensen _hmms_ gently and swallows the noise down.

Jared's cock is hot and heavy and thick in his hand. It makes Jensen's whole body shiver with want. He strokes gently, twisting his wrist to catch the wetness he can feel leaking from Jared's cockhead and smoothing it down the length of his dick. Jared's lips are slack against his, and one day Jensen desperately wants to see how Jared looks when he gets like this. He falls into a rhythm, moving his hand at an angle calculated to ensure the rustling of the sheets is limited. Jensen feels a little guilty about how far his obsession with staying quiet takes him, because he doesn't know if this is the way Jared likes it best and he _hates_ not knowing if this is the way Jared likes it best. Jared never makes a single complaint, of course, but. Jensen wants to know someday; he wants to know everything someday.

Jared crowds close to him and pushes his face into Jensen's neck to muffle the sounds he's trying not to make. His mouth moves in almost-kisses on Jensen's skin and his hips pump his cock into the slick circle of Jensen's fist. Jensen smiles against Jared's hair, presses his own neglected cock into Jared's hard thigh, and moves his hand faster, letting his breath sound in Jared's ear, softly, softly.

Jared makes a small noise when he comes, a soft moaning sigh that he can't hold in any longer, and his hips stutter against Jensen's. Jensen strokes him a few more times until Jared shivers from it. He pulls his sticky hand out of Jared's boxers.

His dick is pressed against Jared's leg and it's aching for movement and pressure, but Jensen holds Jared tight against him for another moment, savoring the way Jared's hot breath flutters on his throat.

Jared shifts a little, and then his mouth is sliding in a hot slick line up Jensen's throat, his teeth catching lightly on the lobe of Jensen's ear. Jensen's chest contracts and his whole body shudders. "Your turn," Jared says, and his voice is practically soundless, barely a breath in Jensen's ear. Jensen can tell he's grinning.

He wastes no time getting his hand inside Jensen's pajama pants. The touch of his hand on Jensen's cock is like electricity blowing through Jensen's whole body, bright and sharp and powerful. Jared keeps his head buried in Jensen's neck, his teeth and tongue finding the spot behind Jensen's ear that sends shivers down his spine and sends his pulse into overdrive. He can feel Jared's lips forming words against his throat, perfectly soundless words that seep right into his skin.

Jensen pushes mindlessly into Jared's hot hand and grits his teeth on the moan that tries to force its way out of his throat as Jared strips his dick with fast, slick strokes. Jensen has no idea if Jared employs a technique intended to limit noise or not because the moment Jared's hand touches his dick, Jensen can't hear anything beyond the roaring in his ears. Everything narrows down to that single bed and Jared pressed tight next to him. The long dorm room, the other beds, his sleeping classmates, the dorm master sleeping down the hall -- none of it matters when he's so damn close and Jared's touching him, giving him the perfect combination of slick, hot, hard, fast. Holy fucking Christ, Jared's the best at this, Jared's the best at everything, Jared _is_ everything. Jensen bucks his hips and arches his back, throwing his arm over his face and biting down on the muscle to stifle the sounds that threaten to pour out of him as he comes in a long wet pulse over Jared's hand.

One day he wants to scream and moan and beg, wants to hear Jared do the same. One day they're going to have all the time and all the space and all the soundproofing in the world. For now they just have this, quick and silent and spectacular in the middle of the night. Against his throat Jensen can feel Jared's lips curving into a grin, and Jensen wraps his arms around him and smiles, too.


End file.
